I see those people
Far, far above
I was never like them
So drunk on love.

So now I'm here
As I look up at the sky
Watching, green-eyed, cause the
Lucky f**ks get to die.

She had spoken her peace and sang her swansong to the horizon of time.

With a shallow voice, the echo of her humanity rang back before the great silence crept in.

From this oaken knoll, she etched her spirit in a pillar of autumnal grace upon the golden sky.

Which began away layers of her existence as the wind carried her soul into the ethereal realm.

And beneath this august sky fire, I began to see all life plateau on the far away ridge.

Alas, the sun began to set forever and took with her, the austere essence of her life.

From which of these pillars will I celebrate her ending call? From whence will I call upon her soul?

The pillars of her spirit are now eternally coalesced into being, and all life has faded from her lips.

Until the final days of this existence, we will forever walk these hallways of haunted spirits.

in your first life, you are a human, and express yourself
in your second life, you are a dog, only able to bark
in your third life, you are a tree, existing in silence
the nirvana will be your salvation: god-approved nothingness

humans can not imagine such a state, we only imagine the netherworld:
heaven and hell are places of gates, fire, lights, gardens and trees
so, does the afterlife take place on earth? what is the case?
do the dead, invisibly, populate the earth like in "the sixth sense"?

a famous playwright once stated that the dead dwell behind curtains
but they don't do so, in reality, they flow through our souls
like rivers through a channel, our souls are tools for ancestors
we do not feel them but they sense us strongly, they scent us

souls governed all human acts that were ever commited
souls govern all human acts that are being commited right now
souls govern all human acts that will be commited
a soul's texture is invisible, yet it weighs precisely 21 grams

everything i wrote about the afterlife and the soul may be wrong
i am as human as you, reflecting and presuming; my hands are tied
i would like to be a tv-preacher but i am not addicted to the dollar
god-channels are flodded by donation banners; humans buy certainty

this certainty, though, only lasts until our final breath: then we will know
then we will really know but we can't tell anyone; and that's our torture
i appreciate life but there are things we will never figure out while living
ludicrous uncertainty is drifting through my mind: the end of the dream

the lunar light ascends.....deathless elation, celebrants, the Godhead

When you, in life beyond it's own life,
passed in winter's waning rains,
you entered our sorrowed dreams,
several times you've gently
rapped on my door,
I quickly would open it-
yet, no one was there,
are you stepping down from
the cherished heights of
immortality's reach,
to invite us to a celestial
gathering of souls reposed,
singing in golden beams
with the angels?